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Monday, December 17, 2012

The Courtship of James Hunter McCloud, chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sighing deeply, Jamie turned back to his
work. With Pa off romancing Ma, he’d
just have twice as much work to do.
Might as well get to it.

“Hm hm!”

The sound of someone clearing her throat
had him swirling around toward the barn door, hay flying off the pitchfork in
his hands in an arc around him as he did so.
And there she was, as if he’d conjured her up out of his imagination,
prettier than he remembered and farther out of his reach than ever. The last thought had his shoulders slumping
in defeat.

Deliberately turning his back on her and
everything she represented and he’d lost, he tossed the hay into the next
stall.

“Whatsa matter?” he asked brusquely,
refusing to look her way again. It was
the only way he could concentrate enough to talk to her. Otherwise, he just got lost in her pretty,
doe brown eyes that always got him to thinking about his favorite caramel
candies and wondering if her mouth would taste as sweet. Not that he’d ever have the chance to find
out, he thought as his mouth twisted bitterly.
“Can’t hitch up the buckboard on yer own no more, now that yer a proper
lady and all.”

He put an almost insulting drawl on the
words ‘proper lady’ just so she’d get the point. What’d she have to go and change for,
anyway? Wasn’t what they’d had here good
enough for her?

Julia watched the smooth muscles of his
shoulders and upper back flexing and relaxing as he tossed another pitchfork
full of hay into a stall. She swallowed
desperately, trying to wet her suddenly parched throat, even as an odd flush
enveloped the rest of her body. Fanning
herself, she stepped closer to him and put on her best smile.

“I wanted to talk to my best friend,”
she said softly, in the dulcet, lady like tones her home economics instructors
had drilled into her before she’d managed to wangle a transfer out of those
dull, useless classes to a more…. invigorating course of study.

“I can guarantee ya ain’t gonna find her
in here,” Jamie nearly growled. “No lady
hangs out in a barn where she might get her skirts dirty.” He looked pointedly at her feet.

Looking down she realized the pointed
toes of her best pair of black dress shoes were less than an inch away from a
giant pile of …. horse droppings. Even
she even breathed too deeply she’d be dragging the skirts of her dress in the
muck.

“Oh,” she murmured, taking a quick step
backward. “Thank--”

She stopped in mid-phrase at the
ominously sucking sound of her foot sinking into another pile behind her. Her shoulders slumped. Jamie snickered.

Stepping sideways toward a bale of hay,
she sat down and grabbed a handful of straw to begin cleaning off the back of
her skirt and her shoe.

“This ain’t funny,” she huffed, losing
her refined tones in her exasperation.
“Do you know how much these cost my Pa?”

Jamie just shook his head. “Then ya shoulda known better’n ta wear ‘em
inta the barn. Or at least to’ve looked
where ya was goin’.”

Her cleaning done, at least as good as
it was going to get here and now, Julia tossed the now dirtied handful of straw
into the wheelbarrow used to muck out the stables. She couldn’t exactly tell him she hadn’t seen
the horse manure because she’d been too distracted watching his back and trying
to find her suddenly non-existent ability to breath.

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she
turned to look straight at him. “Well,
I… I wanted ta look…. presentable.”

“Well, I was hopin’…” she started, then
stopped. Starting again, she said, “See,
there’s this….. I was thinkin’ maybe we
could…. I missed spendin’ time with ya…”

“Oh, would you just spit it out
already,” Jamie huffed, as he grabbed another bale of hay and ripped off the
cords holding it together with a knife he’d pulled from his boot. Slipping the knife back into his boot sheath,
he began splitting the hay bale into large flakes.

Trying again, she said, “There’s a box
social this Saturday. It’s part of the
town Founders’ Day celebrations. I…
well…. I thought…”

As her words petered out, he stiffened
in sudden realization. She wanted to go
with him. Like they’d used to do back in
high school. Straightening to his full 6
foot 2 inch height, he turned to look at her.
Keeping his face stiff, so as not to show the pain ripping through his chest,
he said the hardest words he’d ever spoken.
But the most necessary ones.

“Lady, if yer lookin’ fer an escort, yer
barkin’ up the wrong tree. I ain’t what
you want.”

Without another word, he stalked out of
the barn, letting the door slam shut behind him. She watched him go, her mouth hanging open.

“But… but…. you’re exactly what I want,”
she whispered in the gloomy depths of the barn.
A mare in the stall nearest Julia stuck her head over the door and
whuffled at her, whether in commiseration or demand of food, it was impossible
to tell.

**********

Buck nodded to Jamie as he passed the
training corral. He had turned into a
good young man, one who’d make any father proud, Buck thought. He worked hard and took his responsibilities
seriously. Oh, he liked to play as much
as the next young man, but he didn’t let it get in the way of doing what needed
doing. For example, today Buck would’ve
fully expected him to run off with Julia first chance those two had and head
for their favorite hidey hole. But no,
he was here, taking up his Pa’s slack, Buck thought with a wry grin, and
working hard training one of the newest mustangs they’d brought in last month.

Stepping into the barn, Buck grabbed a
bridle from its hook near the door and headed toward the first stall that
didn’t have a mark indicating the horse had been exercised today. One thing about owning a horse ranch, you had
to spend a lot of time in the saddle just making sure all the stock got enough
exercise and stayed properly docile, even after being trained.

Buck snorted. He’d never have predicted it then, but he
probably spent more time in the saddle now than when he and the others had
worked for the Express.

He reached for the handle to the stall,
ready to open the door, when a small, snuffling sound from the loft overhead
reached his ears. Pausing, he listened
for a moment. So far as he knew, all of
the little ones were at school. So why
did it sound like someone was up in the hayloft weeping? Changing course, he headed for the ladder and
clambered up it, almost, as easily as he’d done in his youth. Peeking through the trapdoor into the
hayloft, he saw Julia curled up in a pile of hay, crying bitterly, trying to
muffle her sobs with her sleeve. A
sleeve he could tell, even in this dim light, was soaked through with her
tears.

Climbing the rest of the way up into the
loft, he moved to her side and pulled his daughter into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” he asked solemnly,
rocking her gently back and forth like he’d used to do when she was a baby.

Buck nodded in comprehension. He’d known she’d carried a tendre for Lou and
Kid’s eldest for a long time. But he’d
always thought Jamie felt much the same for her. He wondered what had happened.

“Tell me about it,” he encouraged.

Haltingly at first, then with growing
speed, she told him all about her earlier encounter with Jamie.

“He hates me,” she muttered, winding
down. “Obviously he thinks I’m still not
good enough for him. Even after going
off and getting a college education, learning how to be a proper lady and
everything,” she huffed, throwing her hands up in the air, “It still wasn’t
enough. I’ll never be good enough for
him.”

Buck started at this pronouncement. He’d thought she’d attended college because
it was what she wanted. Not to please
some man. Shaking his head, he advised, “Then
forget about him.”

“But I looooooovvvveeee him,” she
wailed, breaking into tears once more.

Buck sighed, pulling out a handkerchief
from his pocket and handing it to her.
He watched with fascination as she carefully inspected it for
cleanliness then proceeded to noisily and messily blow her nose and dry it on
the square piece of cloth.

“Honey,” Buck said, pulling her tight
into his embrace, “you can’t make somebody feel somethin’. At the same time, ya can’t make them unfeel
somethin’ either. Not by changin’ who
you are. Be yourself. If Jamie won’t take ya to the box social, go
on yer own and have a fine old time. I
guarantee there’ll be plenty of young men linin’ up ta buy yer box of vittles
once they clap eyes on you after all these years.”

Feeling her start to shake her head in
denial, he smiled a bit. “’Sides, I have
a feeling Jamie doesn’t feel quite the way you think he does. Give him some time. You’ve done a powerful lot of changin’ these
last few years. He may just need a bit
ta get used ta who ya are now. If he’s
the one the Great Spirit meant for you, well, then things’ll work out.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked,
pulling back to gaze up at him hopefully through the sheen of tears still
shining brightly over her eyes.

“I really think so,” Buck smiled,
reaching out to tweak her nose, just like he used to when she was a little
girl.

“Pa,” she groaned, easily eluding his
playful move.

Buck just grinned at her. Standing up, he reached down and helped her
to her feet as well. Brushing the hay
off her dress, he added, “Why don’t ya go back to the house, change out of
these fancy duds and help yer mother in the kitchen. I’d guess you’ve got some plannin’ ta do fer
a social this weekend.”

**********

“What the hell
is wrong with my girl you think she’s not good enough for you?”

The words barely
registered on Jamie’s brain when a fist collided with his nose, sending him
flying backward into the horse trough.
Sputtering as he surfaced, he raised his eyes to meet the enraged gaze
of his Uncle Buck.

Jamie reached up
to wipe the water out of his eyes so he could see more clearly. Yep, his Uncle Buck was still pissed as all
get out. And he had no idea why.

“What the hell’d
ya hit me fer?” he demanded, starting to lever himself out of the trough with
one hand, the other hovering protectively over his nose, already swelling up
and leaking blood.

Buck pushed him
back down into the water with one booted foot against his belly.

“Fer making my
baby girl cry, that’s what!”

Jamie shook his
head, hoping it would shake some piece of information loose so this
conversation would start making sense.
Nope. Didn’t work.

“I ain’t got no
idea what yer talkin’ ‘bout,” Jamie said, sinking back into the water. Accepting he wasn’t going to be going anywhere
until Buck had had his say.

Buck leaned down
until he was almost nose to nose with Jamie and hissed, “I just found my little
girl up in the loft cryin ‘ her eyes out ‘cause o’ you. I can’t believe you really think yer too good
fer her. But even if ya did, ya didn’t
haveta say it. You coulda let her down
easy. I thought I knew you better than
that son.”

“Who the hell
are you talkin’ ‘bout?” Jamie bellowed. “Let
who down easy?”

“Julia, you
dolt. How many wimmen you been insultin’
today you can’t remember her?”

Jamie lost all
his bluster at that. “Didn’t mean ta
make her cry,” he muttered, letting his head fall back so it rested against the
edge of the trough. His entire body
shrieking out defeat. “But I sure as
hell never said I was too good fer her.”

“Well, that’s
sure what she heard.”

“If anythin’, it’s
the other way around,” Jamie continued, ignoring Buck’s words, if he’d even
heard them. “She’s too good fer me. We’d’a made a right fine pair, if she’d stuck
around. But she had to go and get
herself a higher education. Learn ta be
a proper lady. I’m a horse rancher. What’s a proper lady ever gonna want with the
likes of me? I barely managed ta
graduate high school. How’m I supposed
to go up to a woman with a college degree and ask her ta step out with me? Naw.
She done chose ta leave me behind.
Now she’s just gonna have ta live with her decisions.”

Not waiting to
see what Buck had to say about that, Jamie pushed himself upright and shoved
past the older man. He trudged toward
the house with his shoulders slumped in defeat, water sloshing out of his boots
with every step.

Buck just
watched him go, slapping his hat against one lean thigh repeatedly.

“Well,” he
finally muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll be damned. And I thought Lou and Kid got things all
mixed up on their way ta the alter.”

The Author

Who am I? A Hispanic broadcast journalist, current host of Kansas Week on KPTS, and certified high school teacher, a writer and lifelong lover of all things historical, particularly the Old West. I'm married to a wonderful man from Germany and we have a 17 yr old son. We have two rescued cats and a rescued pooch, who thinks she's a 70 lb lapdog. I'm prone to talk about anything and everything that catches my interest.